The Lives of Tony and Pepper
by doomcherries
Summary: A series of one-shots surrounding Tony/Pepper. Full of fluffy goodness.
1. Moments in a Year

Notes: Yeah, I was gonna do the 100 Challenge in order, but I...um, got off track. :) And this is an attempt at a different POV, so I hope it doesn't fail. Huge thanks to **ardvari **for the beta work. :)

Title: Moments in a Year

Theme #74: Years

Summary: A year in Pepper's life.

* * *

You arrive back to your apartment exhausted. Time away from work is a rare and precious commodity—especially on your birthday—and it's always spent to the fullest. Because you know when your brief moment away from work ends, the antics of your child minded boss and his raging ego await attention. So when you _finally _got Tony back on schedule (three hours late, however), you dressed up, went out and possibly drank more than you're used to.

Every muscle in your body aches as you kick off your heels and slip out of the backless green dress you wore. Trading style for comfort, you don a pair of sweats and a tank top and finally sink down into the mattress and give your poor feet a break. But just as you're about to allow yourself to lay back and succumb to sleep, your phone rings.

Sighing, you push yourself out of bed and fish through your purse for your Blackberry. You expect to hear Tony's enthusiastic voice bragging about yet again another successful business trip. And, why yes, he _does _realize it's two in the morning.

Instead, you hear the two words that shatter your world to pieces.

"Tony's missing."

The words ring in your ears and surge through your bloodstream. They worm their way into your aching heart and you fall to your knees with a choked sob.

Rhodey's voice keeps talking, explaining details of the mission—_the caravan was ambushed; most of the people involved are dead; Tony's blood has been found among the ruins—_but you've stopped listening.

The details don't matter.

At this point, you're not sure anything does.

--

The first week seems to fly by and every media outlet, magazine and newspaper in the world boasts headlines of Tony Stark's disappearance. Coverage is nonstop and despite trying to remain calm and collected, each inkling at his death chips away at your resolve.

So, you throw yourself into work.

Entering his office, you blow out a deep breath and sit in front of the computer. Efficiently, you answer the seemingly endless string of emails as completely as you can. You call every scheduled appointment and cancel them for at least the next few months. You clean the clutter out of his desk and yours.

Pausing, you pour yourself a glass of Tony's finest scotch and gulp it down in one swallow. The burn works its way down your throat into your stomach and you wonder why he even drinks the stuff. But regardless, you pour yourself another and sit back down at the computer.

In the short time you took to clean, nearly two hundred new emails appear in your inbox, waiting to be answered. Forgetting about lunch and not even contemplating dinner, you start to respond to each one.

You work.

You work because there's nothing else to do.

You work to keep yourself sane.

You work to keep up hope.

You work because you know if the work runs out, Tony's dead.

--

Four weeks later and you find yourself standing in front of the Stark mansion, unsure of whether or not you should enter. It's absurd really. This place is your second home, having spent more time within these walls than your own apartment.

Entering the security code, the door opens and as you enter, you're suddenly grateful Jarvis can't technically see. The past weeks have brought little sleep, resulting in dark bags under your eyes, dull and flat hair, and skin that would rival a teenager's.

The house is eerily silent, everything is still and calm. The silence grates on your nerves and you ask Jarvis for music. He complies and plays the last song Tony listened to before he left.

You barely make it to the bathroom before emptying your stomach.

--

You rarely eat.

Sleep is something you'd give an entire years salary for. Dreams plague your subconscious, disrupting the little sleep you manage to get. Images of sand, blood and death flash behind your eyes and you force yourself to stay awake just to avoid them.

Your downslide from calm, collected and professional into irrational and pathetic is startling.

You've been living in Tony's house for almost a month and Rhodey visits often, bringing meals he forces you to eat. As he enters, you always hear his sigh of disappointment when he finds you curled up on the couch staring blankly at the Pacific Ocean.

"Pepper, you need rest," he says softly. "You're not finding it here."

You ignore him. You don't have the energy to argue that you can't find rest _anywhere; _you've tried.

"He's my best friend and I miss him, too. But this isn't healthy, Pep."

You continue to push around the Chinese he brought you. Sighing you shove the plate away. "Just find him."

"We're trying." He sighs. "We're trying."

That night you wear one of Tony's shirts and sleep in his bed. In the back of your mind, you think of the previous women to have slept between these sheets, to have shared Tony's love in one form or another. You think of how you'll probably never be one of those women.

Burying your nose into his pillow, you inhale.

His scent is almost gone.

At that, you cry.

--

Two and a half months.

Two and a half months of phone calls and emails and constant reminders from Rhodey that the search is not over, that Tony is the most stubborn man he's ever known, that Tony wouldn't let himself get captured and killed by a ring of terrorists.

You're not so sure and you briefly consider looking for a new job. But after ten years, you're not sure you know how to do anything else. So, you continue waiting.

For the first time since he went missing, you enter his workshop. Tools and parts of his latest project lay strewn around, creating a walking hazard, but you resist the urge to clean. Instead, you walk around and allow your fingers to skim the various surfaces—the smooth leather of the couch, the cool surface of the counters—and you can almost feel Tony's energy surge through you. Everything around you seems to live and breathe Tony.

You pause and look around you, wondering if he'll ever come down here again. Your emotions being to overwhelm you and you quickly make your way back up the stairs and are surprised to find Happy standing there, waiting.

He clears his throat nervously and it's then you realize he's holding your Blackberry. Handing it to you, he says, "Urgent news from Colonel Rhodes."

Your stomach lurches and you feel your pulse quicken. "Good or bad. That's all I want to know."

There's a deafening silence on the other end and then, "Hey, Pep." Tony's voice is weak and raw, like he's been swallowing gravel, but to you, it's the most beautiful sound you've heard in three months.

"Oh, my God," you whisper, willing yourself not to cry.

On the other end you hear shuffling and Rhodey's voice telling you when and where they're going to land. You look up at Happy while Rhodey says his goodbye and you smile. He nods slightly and smiles, too, and gives a halfhearted apology for answering your phone.

"You don't tell Tony I was in his workshop and I'll let you off the hook," you say, half jokingly.

Happy just smiles and leads you to the car. The ride is silent and you're grateful that Happy doesn't say anything when you start to cry. With a sympathetic gesture, he hands you a box of Kleenex. You blot at your eyes and pray you'll look halfway decent by the time you arrive.

When you finally get to the airbase, you wait. For three months, you've been waiting but at least now you know it's only for a finite amount of time. Happy stands silently behind you on the tarmac and you rock back and forth nervously on your heels, waiting for the plane to appear on the horizon.

An hour after you arrive, you finally see the plane in the distance and have a hard time standing still. Nervous energy runs through you, dancing along your spine and you never take your eyes off the slowly approaching plane. As it lands, you unconsciously lean forward and bite your lip to keep from smiling.

The back of the plane opens and you see Tony holding onto Rhodey's arm for support. When he spots you, you can't help but smile as he straightens outs his back and puffs out his chest slightly. Your smile threatens to stretch across your entire face and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around him as he approaches you.

Tony regards you for a moment and says, "Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?"

"Tears of joy," you say, looking down briefly, "I hate job hunting."

"Yeah, vacation's over."

You don't tell him it was anything but a vacation. You don't tell him how the past three months have been your personal living hell. You don't tell him how relieved you are to see his face and hear his voice.

You don't tell him any of these things. Instead, you order his cheeseburgers and set up his press conference. And for once, you're happy to comply with his demands.

--

You walk down the stairs to his workshop, fully expecting him to be hunched over some part of his suit, toying and tinkering with it until it's reached Tony Stark perfection. A slight frown tugs at your lips as you find him instead sitting on the couch in front of the TV. The shadows of the images dance across his face and you quickly realize there's no sound coming from the speakers.

It's been a few months since his return and things have begun to resemble normal again. Or at least as normal as things can be with Tony now masquerading as a superhero. Because your job wasn't complicated enough, you now need to play nurse when he waltzes in, sporting the injuries of flying around in a metal suit.

But you rarely find him in front of the TV.

You approach slowly and you're not even sure he's aware of your presence. As you get closer and finally get a clear view of the screen, your eyes widen in shock and your hand flies up to cover your open mouth and muffle your gasp.

Black and white images of yourself grace the screen and you instantly recognize them as security feeds from the months he was missing. The present image is of you standing in front of Tony's closet, staring at the racks of clothes. You watch as you reach out and touch the sleeve on one of his shirts and bring the fabric up to your nose. Even though the picture is from a distance, you can see your body shake as you remove your shirt and replace it with Tony's. Turning around, you slump back onto the bed and bury yourself into the sheets.

You don't realize he's paused the video until he's turned around to look at you. You stare at the paused image of yourself on his bed and wipe at the tears lining your eyes.

"I…you…Oh, my God."

"I'm sorry, Pepper," he says, sighing slightly, like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

You finally meet his eyes and notice the puffiness and redness lining them. Moving around the couch, you sit and Tony leans towards you slightly. Something has sparked between you both. You felt it when he asked you to change out the reactor and he confessed you were all he had. And you feel it now.

So, when Tony slowly wraps his arms around you, you don't hold back and allow yourself to meld into his touch. A few hot tears roll down your cheek, landing on his shirt and he traces his fingers along your spine.

Pulling back, he wipes your eyes with the pads of his thumbs and smiling, he kisses you. It's sweet and innocent and nothing like you could have imagined.

You smile against his lips.

Something has definitely sparked.

--

One year later and you're hoping he forgets your birthday. Not only does it signify approaching old age, but now the remembrance of the worst three months of your life and his.

Leave it to Tony to not only remember, but also try his hand at cooking. Walking into his kitchen, you find him hunched over a three-layer cake he obviously made himself. Each layer is a different thickness and lopsided, giving the cake a slanted appearance. The same concentration he devotes to one of his projects is displayed on his face as he starts spreading the butter crème frosting around the edges.

"I'm impressed," you say, sitting on a stool across from him.

"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents," he smiles, looking up at you. "Although, you weren't suppose to see this."

You smirk. "Sorry to ruin your surprise, Mr. Stark."

Tony stops working, running the back of his hand across his brow and braces his hands on the counter, leaning towards you. He grins and then, "Pepper, you said when we started sleeping together you'd call me Tony."

"How romantic," you snort.

"I love you," he says seriously.

Wiping frosting from his cheek, you smile. "I know. I love you, too."

Something behind his eyes sparkles and he continues frosting the cake. You watch him work and know at the same he's watching you. Despite your changed relationship, there are still some things Tony's never revealed about Afghanistan. And you accept it, because regardless of his knowledge of you living in his house during his absence, he doesn't know everything you went through.

"You okay, Pepper?"

"Are _you _okay, Tony?" you ask, quirking your eyebrow.

He waves his hand dismissively. "Well, technically, with the time zone change, tomorrow is act—"

"Tony."

He smiles and dots your nose with frosting. "I'm okay."

And you can't help but smile with him.


	2. Make Believe It Isn't Just for Kids

Notes: Huge thanks to **ardvari **for the beta work. :)

Title: Make Believe (It Isn't Just for Kids)

Theme #98: Pretend

Summary: Pepper Potts has a secret.

* * *

Pepper Potts has a secret.

She's in love with her boss.

--

It started out innocently. Or really, as innocently as anything can start with Tony Stark. This was back when working for the infamous playboy billionaire was new and whispers of how he spent his nights were just rumors.

Despite coming off as uninterested and hardened to any advances he made that first day on the job, Pepper could feel her insides twist at his words and her heart flutter at his smile.

A whiff of perfume, his collar stained with a pink pair of lips, and she wondered what it would be like to know she put them there. Wondered what it would be like to know the sly grin on his face was because of her. Because they'd done something wildly inappropriate in the men's bathroom.

But Pepper's not that girl.

Instead, she offers him a fresh shirt and mildly scolds him for spending his lunch hour so unwisely.

--

Tony Stark has an amazing physique. And he knows it. He flaunts it when he can and instead of ignoring his blatant display of ego, Pepper sometimes gives in to her most basic desire and allows herself to look.

The muscles on his back flex as he moves over the car's engine and suddenly her fingers itch to touch the smooth expanse of flesh. She imagines what it would feel like to feel those muscles under her fingertips and the hard weight of his body over hers.

Twisting insides and heart flutters had long been traded in for shivers of desire. Now, they shoot down her spine and flare between her legs, causing Pepper to squirm and clench her thighs together.

But in that same instant—that instant of wishing she were naked and pliant beneath him—she's back to Professional Pepper and reminding him he has a meeting in an hour he absolutely, positively can't be late to.

Tony looks back at her, a grin plastered on his face. "Were you staring, Pepper?"

She doesn't even blush or stammer. "Of course not, sir. I'm impervious to your charm."

His grin only gets bigger and it takes all of Pepper's resolve not to moan out loud.

--

Pepper knows a lot of things about Tony.

She knows Tony likes his coffee black.

His favorite cereal is Captain Crunch and he always has at least three boxes in the house at any given time.

He always has to wear socks, no matter what the weather is like.

On four hours of sleep, Tony does some of his best work. He programmed Jarvis on only two.

She knows Tony brought home a "guest" last night and it's now her job to make sure she finds her way home.

Pepper walks into his bedroom and sighs. Clothes are strewn all over the floor and quietly, she picks them up, sending them to be dry-cleaned. She stares sadly at the still sleeping blonde and wonders if she knows Tony's already forgotten her name.

Ordering Jarvis to raise the blinds, the woman stirs, blinking a sleepy eye at Pepper. She sits up, holding the sheets up against her naked form. "He's gone, isn't he?"

Pepper only nods.

The blonde sighs. "I should have figured."

Half an hour later, Pepper smiles politely and escorts the blonde to Happy's car, dry cleaning in hand, and can't fight off the small stab of jealously. For one night, Tony loved her, in whatever capacity, and Pepper knows it's the one thing she doubts she'll never experience.

--

Tony disappears and Pepper's world crashes down around her.

She's spent years of silently hating his inane requests, his lavish parties, the copious amounts of alcohol and endless stream of insipid girls who wanted nothing more than to stake claim to the fact that they had slept with Tony Stark. But the moment that Jim Rhodes called and informed her her wayward boss was missing, Pepper would have given anything to hear Tony's voice float through the receiver with a ridiculous want.

Her heart literally aches within her chest and her eyes—they feel so damn heavy—are red and puffy from crying and Pepper realizes that somewhere, somehow, what she feels for Tony had turned into something more than a girly crush laden with lust.

And if he doesn't come home, a little part of her heart will have disappeared with him.

--

He comes home a changed person. Brilliance, determination and his playful banter are all there, but Pepper notices when the women stop entering his bed, when the scotch bottles remain untouched and when he starts living his life with a clearer sense of purpose.

She smiles as she walks into his workshop, finding him arms deep within the chest piece of his suit. As usual, he's covered in grease, wearing yesterday's clothes and has yet to touch the food she left for him early this morning. Pulling up a chair, Pepper watches him work, admiring the way he concentrates, so focused and consumed by the task before him.

Finally, he turns towards her and smiles. "Hey, Pep. Checking up on me?"

"Always," she smiles. "You haven't eaten yet."

Wiping his hands on a rag, Tony looks behind him and is surprised at the hours old ham and cheese on wheat sandwich before him. "Huh, didn't even hear you come down." His stomach growls and with a sheepish grin, grabs the sandwich and takes a bite.

Tony polishes off the sandwich in record time and goes back to his shiny new toy. Pepper watches for a moment as he absorbs himself into perfecting the suit and then turns to leave. Pausing at the stairs, she turns and says, "I'm proud of you, you know."

Tony looks up at her, a slight smile on his face, "Yeah?"

"Very, very proud."

Pepper turns to leave, but is stopped by Tony's grip on her wrist. He leans forward to catch her lips, his tongue running along her teeth and she almost loses her balance. Pepper laughs into his mouth and as she pulls away, Tony gently strokes her cheek with his thumb. "We still on for dinner? I make a mean mac 'n cheese," he grins.

"Yes, Tony, we're still on for dinner. If you remember to come up," she teases.

"I never forget you, Pepper."

Pepper smiles as he goes to finish his work and she heads upstairs. Her life is no fairytale and he's no Prince Charming, but Pepper no longer has to pretend to hold his heart.

--

Pepper Potts has a secret.

She's in love with her boss.


	3. Virginia's Secret

Notes: Huge thanks to **ardvari **for the beta work. :)

Title: Virginia's Secret

Theme #4: Black

Summary: Tony and Pepper discuss the finer points of lingerie.

* * *

"Pepper, what is Victoria's secret?"

She blinks up at him, dragging her eyes from her laptop. "Excuse me?"

Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls his eyes. Pepper half expects him to brace his hands on his hips and flip his hair in annoyance. "Victoria's secret. What is it?"

"And why do you think I'd have that answer, sir?"

"Oh c'mon, Pepper. You're a woman, you wear those," he pauses and gestures to Pepper's frame, "things."

Pepper raises her eyebrow. "I don't know if I should be flattered or disgusted that you think about my underwear."

"Why is that such a double standard? Women can wonder 'boxers or briefs' and yet when fine men, such as myself, think about ladies underwear, it's disgusting."

Pepper scoffs. "You're incorrigible."

"Pepper, you know using big words turns me on," Tony warns with a smile.

"Well, in that case, I'm surprised you bring home girls at all," she retorts.

Tony mocks a wince. "Low blow, Pepper, low blow."

"I'm sure you'll survive."

Tony makes a noise in his throat and regards Pepper for a moment before turning his attention back to the Victoria Secret catalog in front of him. Flipping the pages, he cocks his head in thought and turns his attention back to Pepper. "Is it sex?"

She doesn't even bother looking up. "If it were sex, they'd all be naked. And that would defeat the purpose of selling lingerie."

"Power?"

Pepper sighs and closes her laptop, knowing until she answers Tony's question, she'll never get any work done. She has half a mind to slap him for the stupid grin plastering his face, but refrains and blows out a frustrated sigh. "I believe, Mr. Stark, that Victoria's Secret is a well grasped concept of the art of seduction."

Tony stares at her, disbelieving. "The art of seduction?"

Pepper nods. "Think about it." She pulls the catalog from his hands and flips through it until she finds a good example. Turning it around, Pepper places it back in front of him and points to one of the beautiful models, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. "None of these women are naked, flashing their breasts or spreading their legs. Yet, men find them sexy and they didn't have to take off any clothes. Well, at least not all of their clothes." She looks up at Tony, "They make men like you drool at the mere thought of seeing them naked."

"That was very profound of you, Ms. Potts," Tony grins. Slowly, he inched the catalog towards Pepper. "You speaking from personal experience?"

Standing up, Pepper smoothes out her skirt and picks up her laptop, completely ignoring Tony's question. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

He grins up at her. "That'll be all, Ms. Potts."

--

The next day, Tony couldn't help but smirk as he walked into his bathroom and found a page from the Victoria Secret catalog taped to his mirror. A matching black lace bra and panty set was circled and Pepper's impossibly neat handwriting donned the page's only message: _Good morning, Mr. Stark._


	4. Of Cuts, Scrapes and Bruises

Notes: Huge thanks to **ardvari **for the beta work. :)

Title: Of Cuts, Scrapes and Bruises

Theme #88: Nurse

Summary: He watched as she moved, her fingers working with the same skill and comfort of a nurse. And really, he supposed Pepper _was_ his nurse.

* * *

Tony sat on the toilet, elbows balanced on his knees and his head cradled in his hands, staring at the bathroom floor as if it held all the answers of the universe. In fact, he hoped it did. Maybe somewhere within the cool, sienna colored tiles and white caulking the answers of Life would float up and smack him in the face.

_Surprise!_

He snorted. Right, the answers of Life.

_So, Tony, where'd you get the idea for your latest Stark invention?_

_Well, I found the idea deep within the cracks of my bathroom tile. Surprisingly, they're very knowledgeable. _

People would think he was crazier than they already painted him to be. Apparently, surviving three months in a cave, held hostage by the very weapons you helped create and then coming home and wanting to rid the world of those weapons made you a lunatic. Although, Tony figured it was more the revelation that he flew around the world in a shiny, computer powered suit that made him look crazy.

And maybe he was. He was a man-child living out every five-year-old's fantasy of being a superhero. He could fly, shoot up the bad guys with repulser rays that came out of his palms and save the day. But he wasn't doing it because it was cool (although, it was pretty _damn _cool), but because he felt what he was doing was right. And he hadn't felt right about anything in a long time.

Cocking his head to the left, the continuity of the tiles was broken by one Manolo Blahnik clad foot. Tony risked a look up at Pepper's face and the look painted across her beautiful features was like a punch in the gut. Under a thin veneer of professionalism were worry, fear and the flicker of anger.

As she bent to kneel in front of him, Tony half expected her to slap him and scream at him for acting like a complete idiot. Except, her hands never reached his face, but traced the white bandages he'd managed to slap on himself and the only thing that escaped her lips was a disapproving sigh.

Pepper stood and Tony watched her, wincing at the shooting stabs of pain in his temples caused by the overhead lights, as she looked for the first aid kit. Her voice was calm and controlled as she said, "Jarvis, dim the lights, please."

The lights dimmed enough so Tony didn't have to squint, but not so much that Pepper could no longer see. She resumed her position in front of him and Tony stared at her sadly as she tracked his injuries with her eyes. A deep cut ran across from under his left eye to the edge of his eyebrow and a host of other tiny cuts marred his face. But the worst of his injuries lay under the white bandages decorating his arms, torso and back.

Sighing heavily, Pepper carefully pulled aside one of the bandages that lied just to the right of the reactor. She gasped, revealing the nasty red gash, pieces of the suit still imbedded into his skin. Keeping quiet, Pepper opened the first aid kit and pulled out the tweezers and looked up at Tony for permission to continue.

Tony stared at her sadly and nodded, remaining still as Pepper worked in front of him. He winced as she pulled the indented piece from his skin and he could feel the warm trickle of blood run down his chest.

Pepper worked effortlessly, removing the old bandages, extracting the metal pieces, stopping the blood flow and reapplying fresh bandages. He watched as she moved, her fingers working with the same skill and comfort of a nurse. And really, he supposed Pepper _was_ his nurse.

How unfair.

She wasn't getting paid enough.

"Are you mad?" he finally asked, staring down at the top of her head.

Pepper didn't answer. Her eyes remained on his bicep, concentrating on removing the last of the metal from his skin.

Tony sighed. "You're mad."

She looked up at him, defeat written across her face. Her bangs hung limply in her face, sweat beaded across her brow, and despite how careful she'd been, his blood stained her white shirt. Tony stared at the offensive stain, no bigger than the pad of his thumb; it seemed to weave itself into the very fabric of her shirt.

Sitting up straight, he ignored the pain that rippled through the muscles on his back and leaned forward and grasped the edge of her shirt between his fingers. Tony could feel her gaze and with sudden clarity, realized he had woven himself in the very fabric of her life and that she had been woven into his.

Before Pepper, there had been other personal assistants. Three, in fact, but none of them lasted more than a month. He figured it was because he slept with each of them after the first day, made outlandish requests and was difficult to work with. Pepper started the first day knowing about his reputation and not giving a damn. She mowed down all of his ill-attempted innuendos and got straight to work.

For ten years, Pepper stuck by his side, playing every role he needed: nurse, mother, teacher, assistant, maid, and friend. She'd been keeping him in line ever since.

Tony slumped his shoulders and released his hold on her shirt. Pepper blinked up at him and started cleaning the cut on his face.

"Do you ever think about what your life would be if you hadn't worked for me?"

"What?"

"You know," Tony sighed, "Like married with kids or something?"

Pepper shrugged. "Sometimes," she said, cleaning the cut with Neosporin. "I love my job and have no regrets, Tony."

Tony stared at her for a moment. Her eyes were focused on her task and her brow furrowed in concentration. Her hand came up and tilted his chin to the right, angling his face more into the light and shivers shot down his spine.

"I'm sorry I got blood on you," he said, his breath fanning across her cheek.

"If it means you're alive, I don't care." Pepper rocked back on her heels and stood up, packing away the first aid kit. "I'm afraid one day you're going to kill yourself and I don't want to be the one to find you," she said softly, bracing her hands on the counter.

"Pepper, you kept me alive." Wincing slightly, he stood and placed himself between Pepper and the counter. "I won't die on you. At least not voluntarily."

She stared up at him and brought one hand up to the reactor in the middle of his chest. Tony's breathing hitched as she traced one slender finger around the outer edge and over the white scar tissue. "How can I be stronger than this?" she asked, tapping the reactor.

Tony shrugged. "Because you're you."

Pepper slipped her hands into his and pulled him forward. Smiling, she leaned into him and pressed her lips to his, watching as Tony's eyes fluttered close. It was simple, chaste and lovely, yet electric. Pulling away, she bit her lip to keep her smile from floating off her face and quickly kissed him again.

He watched her turn to leave. "Pepper?" At the sound of his voice, she paused and turned around. "Have dinner with me."

"Only if you let Jarvis update me when you're on missions."

Pepper smiled and as she left the room, Tony looked up at the ceiling. "Jarvis? Override protocol beta-7."


	5. Confessions

Notes: Huge thanks to **ardvari **for the beta work. :) And, OMG, I exist. This truly has been the semester from hell and I've survived with most of my sanity. I found this sitting on my HD, so I hope it doesn't completely suck.

Title: Confessions

Theme #11: Morning

Summary: More days than not, she felt like a glorified babysitter, getting paid more money than most doctors just to keep him from drowning in a river of booze and young women.

* * *

Sweat beaded on her brow and she turned to give a muffled scream into her pillow. She was having those dreams again. Those horribly inappropriate dreams in which she was pressed against the cool glass windows in his office while he thrust hotly between her legs. They didn't fulfill her fantasies; they only left her with an ache between her thighs and a deep sense of frustration.

In a way, Pepper figured this was punishment for staying within the comforts of Tony Stark's mansion instead of risking the drive back to her studio apartment. She took comfort in the fact that she had a place of her own. Something that was undeniably hers (even if Tony technically paid for it), somewhere she could retreat to that wasn't cluttered with metal, grease, a demanding egotistical billionaire for a boss and the occasional leggy blonde.

Still, she lost count years ago of the number of times she'd actually used the spare bedroom. Late nights turned into early mornings, and especially since Tony had returned from Afghanistan, her life had been an endless string of phone calls, emails and press conferences. Exhausting, but Pepper knew she couldn't quit. She'd known that the minute she stepped foot in his office and he made her his assistant. Without her presence, Tony Stark's world would combust into a million infinitesimal pieces of chaos, held together only by the thought that he could run his own life.

But, sometimes it was just easier to give in to her aching muscles and take advantage of the extra bed and 600 thread count sheets. However, knowing Tony was only down the hall sent her mind reeling, and she had a hard time relaxing. Which she assumed was why she only had these dreams in the mansion. Maybe, because deep down (if she really wanted to), she could act on her fantasies. And Pepper knew Tony wouldn't object.

Drawing a hand over her face and pinching the bridge of her nose, Pepper sat up and glanced at the clock.

5:17.

She sighed.

Planning on waking up in less than an hour anyway, she decided to start her morning early. In hindsight, she knew this would be to her advantage. Before shutting her laptop for the evening, she'd left 129 unread emails in her inbox and knew there would be more in the six hours since she last checked.

As she stood, Pepper stretched and made her way to the door. She padded barefoot down the hallway, pausing at the entrance to Tony's room. Pepper peered inside and frowned; the bright blue glow that illuminated his room was missing. Sighing, she glanced back at the stairs to his workshop. More and more, she found him down there, asleep among robotic arms, miles of wires or resting uncomfortably on the couch, grease smeared across his face.

She tried several times to coax him upstairs, rattling off the reasons he needed to sleep somewhere other than a horrendously uncomfortable couch, but his reply was always the same; a smirk would spread across his face and he'd look up at her and say, "You want to tuck me in, Ms. Potts?"

Moving past the waterfall into the living room, Pepper stopped as she saw Tony sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the fire that blazed before him. Wisps of smoke curled around him, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Pepper couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smoke cigarettes. He usually went for the flair and sophisticated look of cigars—said important business types should smoke cigars, made them look important.

The glow of the arc reactor under his shirt brought his face alive with shadows, emphasizing the almost worn and defeated look etched into his features. For nearly the past two weeks, he'd spent the majority of his time tinkering with and upgrading the suit, always trying to achieve the next level of seemingly unattainable perfection. The world thought he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Either that or he'd gone crazy. Or both. Either way, he was wearing himself thin.

"It's not polite to stare, Ms. Potts." He hadn't fully acknowledged her, but she could see the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly.

"I'm just surprised to see you awake, Mr. Stark." She looked at him, her head cocking to the left and she frowned. "You should be sleeping."

He shook his head. "Can't."

She didn't ask why, knowing if she did, she probably wouldn't have received a proper answer anyway. For a man so in love with himself and never missing an opportunity to hear himself talk, he kept surprisingly mum about his three months in captivity. It took her nearly two weeks to get him to tell her information, and she was slightly disappointed that the only thing he revealed was "caves were cold".

Moving around the couch, Pepper sat down next to him and tried to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine as she reached over to remove the mostly ash cigarette from his fingers and stamped it out, her fingers grazing his. He turned to face her, his breath fanning across her cheek and she could feel her pulse quicken and his gaze burn into her skin.

She stared wide-eyed as Tony brought his hand up and gently twisted a loop of hair around his index finger. Her breath hitched in her throat and she didn't breathe again until his hand dropped into his lap and he sighed.

"Why do you put up with me, Pepper?"

She blinked, her brain swimming as she tried desperately to grasp what was happening. Pepper asked herself that very same question on a nearly daily basis. She was a strong, independent, smart young woman who could do a hell of a lot more than comply with every demand Tony Stark made. More days than not, she felt like a glorified babysitter, getting paid more money than most doctors just to keep him from drowning in a river of booze and young women.

"Someone has to, Tony," she said softly, leaning away from him. _And because I love you, _she thought.

A small noise escaped from his throat and he turned his attention back to the fire. "I bet you enjoyed your three months off, huh Potts?"

His tone was entirely too light for the subject and she wanted nothing more than to slap him. But she kept her hands where they were and resorted to clenching them into tight fists and trying to keep herself from screaming at him.

"You _bastard,_" she hissed.

Tony's eyes went wide, his mouth opening to speak, but he quickly shut it, noticing the flash of anger behind Pepper's blue eyes. She was breathing heavily through her nose in a poor attempt to calm herself down and it took her a while before she could grit out, "I worried every damn day, Tony."

She remembered the first call she got from Rhodey, telling her their caravan had been ambushed and that they couldn't find Tony, sent her crashing to the floor, the pain in her knees dull in comparison to the pain she felt in her chest. Every time she saw his name flash on the caller ID display, she silently prayed that day would be the day he'd finally have some good news, but for three long months, the only news he could give her was that they weren't giving up.

"I wondered whether you were safe. Whether you were hurt or dead. Whether you were getting enough food or sleep." Pepper took a deep breath and slowly let it out through her teeth. "I made appointments I knew you'd never make just to hang onto the barest thread of hope that you were still alive. And then I get the call from Rhodey telling me they found you alive and I barely knew what to do with myself."

Pepper choked back a sob, her eyes tearing up as she felt a surge of emotions run through her. Rhodey's voice on the phone had been a mix of excitement, relief and sadness all at the same time. He'd barely gotten the words "he's alive" out before Pepper found herself crying, her tears leaving perfect circles on her blouse as they fell. She wanted to dance, she wanted to laugh and when she finally saw him, walking from the plane with Rhodey by his side, she wanted to hug and slap him all at the same time. Instead, she fell back into their easy routine of playful banter and kept the storm of her inner turmoil to herself.

The soft, yet rough, feel of his fingers on her wrist snapped her to the present and she jerked away quickly from his touch. She rubbed at her wrist as if his touch had set her skin on fire and silently berated herself for giving him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"I was so relieved, Tony and you…you acted like nothing happened and deflected every question I had, gave no answers and now all you can do is insinuate that worrying myself sick over your sorry ass was my idea of fun." She sighed and fell back into the couch, no longer possessing the energy sit up straight. "You really are an asshole."

For a few minutes no one spoke. Pepper felt emotionally spent, her arms lying limply at her side and her back slouched uncomfortably against the couch in exhaustion. She wiped her eyes, and tried to control the pounding of her heart against her ribs. Tony hadn't moved and continued to stare a hole into the spot on the floor just above her left knee.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice gravelly.

Pepper laughed, bitterly. "No you're not. And you know what," she asked, pushing herself from the couch, "I quit."

She turned sharply on her heels, but stopped short when Tony darted up and caught her forearm, spinning her around to face him. His grip was bordering on painful, but she kept her composure and met his stare head-on. The smell of scotch, grease and cigarette smoke seemed to pour off of him, and she closed her eyes briefly and inhaled. When his grip tightened just a fraction more, Pepper opened her eyes again.

"I wasn't alone in Afghanistan and had I been alone, I wouldn't be alive." Tony swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "There was a man—Yinsen—he saved my life, but I wasn't able to save his; he died helping me."

He paused, releasing his grip on Pepper's arm. Tony glanced down at where his hand was and gently ran his thumb along the red imprints his fingers left on her pale skin. Taking a step back from her, he drew a hand through his hair and continued. "He told me…he told me I was a man who had everything, yet nothing." He made a grand sweeping gesture around his living room. "None of this means a goddamn thing, Pep."

"Tony—"

"I thought of you, you know. The last thing I remember after the shrapnel hit was your face and the first thing I thought of when I woke up was how _pissed _you were gonna be that I'd gotten myself into this mess." A hint of a smile curled on his lips, but quickly turned into a frown. "I heard you say my name when I thought I was going to die."

"Tony, I—"

"No, Pep," he held up his hand and pressed a finger against her lips, "You wanted to know."

He turned from her then and sat back down on the couch with a heavy sigh. Leaning forward, he grabbed the open package of cigarettes and bringing one to his lips, flicked open the lighter and lit up. Tony resumed staring into the fireplace; as if the flickering flames held the answers he'd been seeking since he returned home.

Pepper felt her shoulders slump and for a while could do nothing but watch him, his cigarette hanging limply from his lips. Moving around him, she sat down beside him, folding one leg under her lap and never breaking contact with his eyes. Tony's stare remained fixed in front of him, but Pepper could see the slight flicker as he tried not to look at her.

She moved her gaze down to the blue glow at the center of his chest. He was wearing a shirt he hadn't decided to modify, diminishing its intensity. It was a surprise to them both when Pepper slowly tugged at the hem of his shirt and brought it up over his head. As she tossed it aside, Tony finally spared a glance at her face.

His breathing hitched slightly as Pepper began to trace her fingers around the metal shell of the reactor, feeling the cool sting of metal and smooth scar tissue where it met his skin. Placing her hand over the front plate, her fingers appeared almost translucent and she could feel a slight warmth and pulse radiating outwards.

Leaning forward, Pepper pressed a kiss to the center of the reactor and rested her forehead just under his chin. "He helped you make this."

"Not before he installed an electromagnet in my chest and attached it to a car battery," he swallowed heavily. "I owe him everything."

Pepper looked up and brought her left hand up to his face. Tony turned into her touch, his red and tired eyes meeting hers. "I'm sorry about before. I was out of line and unprofessional; I shouldn't have pushed you."

Tony scoffed. "You're off the clock, Pepper."

"I'm serious, Tony."

"I know," he smiled, "You keep calling me Tony. You only call me that when you really want me to listen."

Despite herself, Pepper finds herself smiling. "It works." Dropping her hand, she scooted back and smoothed out her shirt. "Thank you."

Standing, she started walking back towards the bedroom, but turned back around. "Goodnight, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled and nodded towards the slowly rising sun. "Good _morning_, Ms. Potts."


	6. Weight In Gold

Notes: WHAT. I know, four years to update is horrible. Can I offer this fic as an apology? Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

Title: Weight In Gold

Theme #9: Gold

Summary: Pepper learns the weight of gold.

* * *

Pepper can count on both hands the number of times she's thought of quitting.

Six.

And for ten years of working for Tony Stark, she figures it could have been a lot worse.

* * *

When Tony disappears, she doesn't immediately fall to her knees and cry. Instead, she blinks at Rhodey and briefly wonders if this is a prank. The seriousness in his voice tells her it's not.

It doesn't really hit her he's gone until she needs to enter his home. Pepper's pulse races and she can't ignore the tightening of her chest as she drives up the driveway and stops in front of his house.

Jarvis has CNN displayed on the large, glass windows and it's only when Tony's reported dead that Pepper falls to her knees and realizes just how much she's missed him.

* * *

He has nightmares.

Tony never told her and Pepper has never asked. But sometimes she finds him in the workshop, asleep among robotic arms and metal tools and he looks like he's in pain. His muscles twitch beneath his skin and his lips curl into a frown.

Sometimes he makes small noises. Mostly little grunts and groans, but sometimes, he screams.

Pepper hates it when he screams.

But when she gently grabs his hand and strokes his hair, his whimpers turn into comforted sighs and finally, he sleeps silently.

* * *

There was a time in Pepper's life when picking up bullet-riddled pieces of metal and cleaning wounds wasn't part of her job description.

But then again, she'd rather pick up scraps of metal than scraps of clothes and the broken hearts that went with them.

* * *

She watches him fly through the air and her stomach lurches into her throat. Worry, nervousness and—she'll never admit it to his face—a little bit of anger courses through her veins.

He'll come home hours later, the suit chipped away and broken in places, but the look of accomplishment will ease her fears. He'll talk of how he saved an entire city and in that moment, she'll gently squeeze his hand and her heart will swell with pride.

She might not tell him she's proud of him, but somehow Pepper always thinks he knows.

* * *

Tony comes home barely clinging to consciousness. Pepper removes the suit, leaving the damaged pieces strewn about the floor of Tony's workshop. Through her anger, she drags him to the old leather couch and lets out a cry as she struggles to haul him onto the cushions.

He doesn't respond when she begins cleaning the dirt and blood from his face or when she bandages the cuts on his arms, chest and back.

He doesn't respond when her resolve cracks and she's sobbing, her head resting next to his and her hand on his heart.

* * *

Later, she's woken by Tony slipping between her sheets and pressing his warm body into hers. She turns to face him, eyes tired from crying and sheer exhaustion and stares at the bruised face before her.

Gently, he brings his hand up to her face and wipes away her tears and pulls her closer.

Pepper doesn't ask questions, doesn't kick him from the bed. She doesn't protest the coarse skin of his palm gliding down her spine or the press of his lips along her collarbone. She doesn't resist the feel of his skin on hers, the warm press of his hips into hers.

She doesn't oppose when he hands her his heart and whispers her name like a prayer. And as he comes, she cradles him in her arms, the bruised and battered man trying so hard to prove he can be the man he was born to be.

* * *

Pepper never pegged Tony as a romantic.

Over the years, she's seen his brand of romance and the lust-filled stares, overtly sexual words and unfulfilled promises weren't her cup of tea. So, when he started leaving her little love notes—cute ones—in her office, her car and on her Blackberry, Pepper knew he'd changed.

And when one day over breakfast Tony nonchalantly asks her if she'd ever consider marrying him, Pepper blinks up at him before her mouth curves into a smirk. Softly, she cups his face and laughs when he turns to kiss her palm.

She nods and he grins like a little boy on Christmas day.

* * *

He still jets around the world, his clear sense of purpose unwavering. Sometimes he'll be gone for weeks at a time and come home battered and bruised. Sometimes he'll only be gone a day, come home looking better than ever and sweep Pepper into his arms.

But no matter where he goes or how long he's gone, the weight of the simple gold band on their left ring fingers anchor them in place.


End file.
